Chasing Deception

by Dave Milbrandt

  “Please forgive us, Shepherd Jeremiah!” The small group practically shouted in unison.

  Jeremiah smiled. “That’s better. Now I am going to go out to the prayer garden and ask God to forgive you. Brother Vincent and Sister Angela will distribute the juice and wafers and I will return in a little while.” Jeremiah exited to the left of the screen.

  Jim’s jaw dropped slightly as he saw his cousin and Angela De La Cruz serving the cups and crackers to the group members. Jim, Melissa and P.J. continued to watch in stunned silence as the members of New Creation Community reacted to the poison. People started coughing and gagging, some vomiting. Eventually they all collapsed to the floor and were writhing about, until one by one they stopped moving altogether.

  Melissa broke the silence. “I wonder if Jeremiah ever returned to the room.”

  Jim shook his head. “No way. I’m guessing Jeremiah was in his Silverado less than two minutes after he left that room. He probably even had his bags packed already.”

  P.J. agreed. “I’m with Jim on this one. He had this whole thing planned out. Notice he didn’t serve the juice himself. When we catch him, he’ll probably argue Angela and Vince killed them and he had no idea what was even in the cups.”

  Jim nodded. “He’s right.”

  “But you know that’s a lie.”

  “Of course it is, Melissa, but he’ll say it anyway. Jeremiah’s gotten away with everything else. Now, he thinks he can get away with murder.”

  “I think it’s time to get Sgt. Dixon in here.” P.J. left the room.

  Jim called Dan a few minutes later and briefed him on the situation. He told them to stay up there for the rest of the day and that he would send a photographer up as soon as he could. Several more investigators arrived on the scene before they noticed Jeff Wang’s red Jeep coming up the road.

  “Man, what a scene.” Jeff surveyed the area for possible photo angles.

  “Yeah, sure is.” Jim asked Melissa for her camera bag. Fishing out the camera, he ejected the flash card and gave it to Jeff. “We took some pictures before these fine officers showed up. Can you upload these when you get back to the office? I doubt Dan will let us run with it since we are a ‘family newspaper’, but it never hurts to try.”

  Reporters from the Los Angeles Times and the regional bureau of the New York Times arrived in the early afternoon, followed by the KNBC and KABC network TV vans.

  Jim raised his eyebrows. “Let the circus begin.”

  —

  By 2:30 p.m. there was a swarm of journalists milling around. Five TV reporters were all within 15 feet of each other, filming pretty much the same angle, being careful not to get the other journalists in the background.

  The press conference began a few minutes before 5 p.m., and P.J. was the designated spokesperson. He stood behind a portable lectern with several mikes attached. The dozen reporters were clustered around P.J., and the TV cameras formed a semicircle behind them, their lights compensating for the setting sun. Before the press conference began, P.J. had promised not to reveal Jim and Melissa had made the discovery.

  P.J. began the press conference with a statement that explained an anonymous tip led them to discover the 28 dead bodies. He also shared the few other scant details they had discovered so far before reporters asked questions in rapid succession. P.J. did his best by answering the questions just as quickly.

  “How did they die?”

  “We believe the cause of death for these people was ingesting poisonous household cleaners mixed with grape juice. It will take several days, however, for final autopsy reports to confirm this.”

  “Were their deaths painful?”

  “Many of the victims were found in a fetal position and looked liked they were in excruciating pain when they died.”

  “How long had they been dead?”

  “We believe they died sometime yesterday, but we haven’t been able to pinpoint an exact time of death as of yet.”

  “Did they all die at once?”

  “We don’t have any evidence to the contrary.”

  “How long had the group been living at this location?”

  “Since the end of September.”

  “Why did these people kill themselves? Did they even know they were drinking poison?”

  P.J. paused only momentarily as he considered changing his mind about revealing the video of their deaths. The video might leak eventually, but the deputies on the scene made a solid argument that it would be easier to catch Jeremiah if he didn’t know there was evidence directly linking him to their deaths. “We’re not prepared to answer either question at this time. Next question.” He pointed to Janet Lamm from Channel 13 News.

  “Is this group a cult?”

  “That’s a very good question, Janet, but I’m not an expert on such matters and wouldn’t want to make such a determination.”

  “A follow-up, Mr. Gibson. Did you have any reason to suspect something like this was going to happen?”

  “No, none whatsoever.” He pointed to another TV reporter

  “Virginia Schumann, CNN. Was Jeremiah Harmon among the dead?”

  P.J. shook his head. “No.”

  Reporters’ heads popped up from their notepads in surprise.

  Schumann filled the silence with a follow-up. “Do you know where he is?”

  “We’re not sure, but we believe Jeremiah Harmon may still be alive and in hiding somewhere.”

  “What are you doing to apprehend him?”

  “We have our best people on that right now, and we’re confident he will not elude us for long. Listen, this man is connected to the deaths of 28 innocent people. We’ll find him.”

  He fielded a few more questions before ending the press conference. The newspaper reporters packed their notepads and cameras while the TV reporters began doing their on-air stand-ups summarizing what they had just been told. Jim and Melissa asked P.J. some more questions after the press conference had ended and then jumped into his Accord and sped down the mountain. Dan had told them to be in the office by 7 p.m. at the latest.

  —

  7:07 p.m. Friday

  They rushed into the office and waved at Dan while they walked straight to Melissa’s computer. Jim wrote out his notes and started filling out the fragmented sentences and putting them in order, while Melissa briefly told Dan what was going on. Melissa read the story over Jim’s shoulder and recommended some changes. Dan assured them this story would be the lead in Saturday’s edition. When they finished, Dan sat down to edit the piece. He typed in a couple of bullet points under the headline.

  DOZENS DIE IN BIZARRE CULT RITUAL

  • Police discover bodies of 28 New Creation members

  • Founder Jeremiah Harmon missing

  By James T. Mitchell

  and Melissa Jenkins

  Staff Writers

  CRESTLINE - While millions of people celebrated Christmas by opening gifts from family and friends, more than two-dozen members of the New Creation Community cult took their lives in what officials believe was a bizarre suicide pact.

  Officers said the ritual took place Christmas Day in the recreation room of an old campground the cult members had encircled with heavy-duty wood fencing topped with barbed wire.

  Among the dead at the mountaintop compound were several area residents, including the pregnant daughter of Emerald Valley City Councilman Larry Holcombe.

  Group leader Jeremiah Harmon was not among the dead and officials speculate he may have fled the scene uninjured.

  “We believe Jeremiah Harmon may still be alive and in hiding somewhere,” Emerald Valley Police spokesman P.J. Gibson said.

  San Bernardino County Sheriff’s deputies raided the compound early Friday morning in response to an anonymous tip.

  Upon entering the facility’s converted recreation room they discovered the dead cult members lying in contorted positions on the floor.

  Investigators discovered several half-filled cups of grape juice. In the kitch
en, a bottle of the juice was discovered near containers of liquid household cleaners.

  Sheriff’s investigators said they believe Harmon may have blended the chemicals and juice together to form a lethal mixture.

  Dan skimmed through the next three paragraphs, as they were simply a recap of previous stories about the group. He knew Jim had summarized key paragraphs from previous articles. Dan started tracking more closely at the end of the article, which concentrated on the search for Harmon.

  Harmon’s brother, college professor Ed Hartley, said he was stunned by the news.

  “I am praying for the families who are going through this terrible loss right now,” Hartley said. “I hope [he] does the right thing and turns himself in.”

  If he continues to evade capture, investigators have said their main energies would be focused on tracking Harmon down.

  “This man was intimately involved in the deaths of 28 innocent people,” Gibson said. “We’ll find him.”

  “Great work, guys!” Dan said when he finished. “This story is running A-1 above the fold. We’re even going to use one of your more discreet pictures on the inside jump,” Dan said pointing to Jim. “Go home, get some sleep and go straight to Crestline tomorrow. We’ll get someone to cover your stuff for the next few days. Keep up the great work.”

  As they were leaving, Jim ran into cops reporter Dale Henzie, who was working late reporting on a bank robbery that had happened in Montclair earlier in the day.

  “Good job on the New Creation story.” Dale patted him on the back.

  “Thanks.” Jim paused before speaking again, this time in a lowered tone. “Dale, do you remember when you saw your first dead body?”

  “Yep. Ricardo Blanco. Gang hit, very messy. They never did find all the pieces.”

  “How do you deal with the images in your head?”

  “I used to drink, but my doctor said I can’t do that anymore. Some say prayer works, but that was never my thing. After a while, you see the images less and less.”

  “Do they ever go away completely?” Jim was hoping for a “yes” he knew was not coming.

  “I would be lying if I said they did. Like I said before, you see them less and less as time goes on.” His tone softened. “Sorry I couldn’t give you the answer you wanted.”

  Jim shrugged. “No worries, man. Thanks anyway.”

  As Jim exited the building, he thought about how he had talked with his aunt and uncle earlier in the day and had promised to go over to their house after he got off work. Jim suspected he would be getting little sleep that evening.

  22

  Throughout the week it seemed the entire paper was devoted to coverage of the “Tragedy at Crestline.” The graphics department had designed a special logo that mostly consisted of colored type on a shaded box. On A-1 an updated fact box ran daily next to the lead articles. Special newspaper rack signs had been created and distributed. Self-promotional house ads ran each day. And Jim or Melissa wrote updates for the paper’s website twice a day. The Courier even did a special 15-second radio spot. All to create greater interest in the story and all which highlighted the “exclusive, top-notch coverage” only the Courier would provide.

  But cable news and their websites gave the Courier a run for its money. They were at the same press conferences Jim and Melissa had attended. And, as was standard, the two reporters were reading the papers and watching the news broadcasts and special updates to learn what small fact they had missed. The Los Angeles Times scooped the Courier when they found out about Harmon’s secret bank account from “sources investigating the case”. Jim did one better when he talked to P.J. and learned Harmon had withdrawn more than $500,000 from the mysterious account. Jim had picked up that tidbit on Saturday afternoon, and Linda Gallardo, who ran Metro every other weekend, gave him the go-ahead for a front-page story on Sunday, January 4.

  Jim and Melissa spent most of their days at Crestline attending press briefings, looking around the old campground itself, eating lunch at Betty’s Diner. When the sun set over the western mountain ridge, they made their way back to the Courier to write their articles. They ate, slept and drank Crestline.

  Since he was covering the story, Jim did not take time to grieve the loss of his cousin. He didn’t have time to, and he couldn’t even if he did. Nobody at the paper but Melissa knew he and Vince were related. If his editors found out about Jim’s connection to the victims, Jim feared they would pull him off the story. And I’m not going to let that happen.

  —

  10:30 a.m. Tuesday, January 6, 2009

  Jim appeared lost in thought as he and Melissa were driving to the memorial service being held at Hill Pointe Community Church. Melissa explained how Pastor Will had made it a policy to open the church facilities to local fire and police departments if they had an officer or fire fighter who died in the line of duty. He had done it at their old sanctuary and believed having public memorial services was a service to the community as well as a good witnessing tool. When he heard about what happened at Crestline, he contacted the county sheriff’s office and offered his church for the combined memorial service. He was happy when the families agreed.

  They didn’t talk much on the way there. As they pulled into the parking lot, Melissa noticed Jim was rubbing a tear out of his right eye. She took hold of his left hand and gave a comforting squeeze. “It’s OK to cry, Jim.”

  “Not when I’m on the clock, my dear.”

  “This was your cousin who died. Someone you love. You don’t have to be Mr. Macho about the whole thing.” She spoke in soft and soothing tones. “If you want, I can cover the service. You can just go and pay your last respects to Vince.”

  “I can’t right now. I have a job to do and I’m going to do it.” Confidence returned to his voice.

  “OK.”

  They left the car and walked toward the entrance. Out of habit, Jim was counting cars as he approached the glass doors. He whispered his findings to Melissa.

  “At least 400 cars here and the service doesn’t even start for another 25 minutes.”

  “Impressive.”

  Once inside, they went to work. In a casual and subdued manner, they talked with some of the grieving family members assembled in the lobby. Melissa and Jim made sure their approach was non-threatening so as not to agitate those whose emotions were already well stirred up. While they wore their press badges on lanyards, they kept their pens and notepads discreetly out of view until the person agreed to talk on the record. In the interest of time, they only talked to three people each. Then they found their seats.

  Since many of the families had observed private funerals by this time, Will proposed enlarged photos of each of the victims be set up on stage, and they agreed. The mounted photos were placed on display stands and arranged on the stage in staggered formation. In front of each stand was a bouquet of white roses on a pedestal.

  Jim was surprised at the subdued presence of the media. Only one local station was given permission to set up a camera in a semi-hidden location in the rear of the church. A photographer from the Courier and its competition were given permission to take a few shots inside, but none during the service itself. Jim recognized several of the reporters who had been at all the same press conferences, but all they had to rely on was their notepads. Jim relayed his observations to Melissa.

  “Pastor Will seems to run a pretty tight ship.”

  “He was a nice guy for the first major public service that was held at our old building, and the media walked all over him. There were five photographers and three video cameras inside the building. The sanctuary only sat 300, and it was a zoo. That was six years ago, and he learned his lesson the first time. After that the church set up a strict policy about media coverage. It took us two years before a police or fire agency had another ceremony at our church.”

  Jim nodded. “That makes sense.”

  It was five minutes before the service was scheduled to start, and Jim took an inventory of those in at
tendance. The family members, all dressed in black and gray, were in the front three rows. Local city officials and some law enforcement officers who investigated the crime scene were also in attendance as mourners. Melissa had whispered to Jim that there were at least a dozen area clergy in the audience.

  “Most of the victims probably attended a local church at some point in their lives.” Melissa spoke in hushed tones. “I bet their families are asking themselves why they left the churches they grew up in to join a cult.”

  Jim looked around the packed room. “Melissa, who are all these people? This can’t be just family, friends and a few local bigwigs. Are these folks just nosy or something? How many of them even knew the victims?”

  “I don’t know.”

  But Jim had already guessed at part of the reason. He confirmed his theory before the memorial when he interviewed someone who did not personally know anyone being remembered. She worked at the grocery store in Crestline and had met a couple of the New Creation members once. All she knew about them is that they seemed like nice people. That was supported by what she had read in the Courier and had seen on the TV news. As with the others, she was sad these people had to die. She came to the funeral for a simple reason.

  “I wanted to find out why this happened. Why did these nice people have to die in such a terrible way?” The woman dabbed away tears with a balled-up tissue. “I don’t know if there is an answer to that question, but I hope so.”

  Jim was pondering the same question himself when the service started. Pastor Will, wearing a dark gray suit, slowly walked to the stage. Jim remembered when he saw him several months ago and noticed the pastor’s pace and demeanor had changed. He respects the gravity of the situation. Good.